


Lovers' Leap

by Philosopher_King



Series: Whatever is done from love [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Blink and you'll miss it, Canon Compliant, Drug Use, Established Relationship, Fluff, Frigga is a Cool Mom, Light Angst, Loki Gets a Hug, Loki Needs a Hug, Loki gets to chill, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Naked Cuddling, Recreational Drug Use, Sibling Incest, except a brief allusion to Kierkegaard, more or less, no philosophy in this one, very light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-20 18:50:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11927049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philosopher_King/pseuds/Philosopher_King
Summary: Hoping to get his anxious, moody brother to relax (for once), Thor looks for advice from Frigga -- who spent an adventurous youth in Vanaheim -- as to what substances might help. She recommends "lovers' leaf" (a pun, she thinks, on "lovers' leap") which she assures him is not an aphrodisiac, but "approximates the feeling of falling in love—or rushing headlong into love, more like. Giddiness, euphoria, the sense that all is right with the world. It tends to come with loquaciousness and relaxed inhibitions, and often an intense craving for touch. So don’t be alarmed if you find Loki becoming unusually… cuddly."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darklittlestories](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darklittlestories/gifts).



> darklittlestories won what was, in theory, a 2000-3000 word fic in my giveaway on Tumblr and requested: "Thor brings Lo some exotic offworld drink/drug that *melts* stressball/buttoned-up!Loki & has ecstasy-esque snuggly (or sexy?) properties and some sort of affection ensues:D Loki gets to chill." Since Chapter 1 is already almost 2000 words and we haven't even gotten to the part where Loki gets high, it's going to be at least 4000 words. Oh well. If I'd had more time, I would have written you a shorter fic.
> 
> Although I've now included this fic in my Thorki series because it takes place in the same timeline and builds on some of what's been established in earlier fics, you do not have to have read any of those to understand this one.

When Thor called upon his mother late in the afternoon, she was holding court among her ladies, sitting regally at her loom while two of them helped her by sorting through skeins of colored thread and others occupied themselves at various useful tasks: spinning, embroidering, working fine metal wire into jewelry with the aid of simple seiðr.

The maid at the door announced him to the Queen, then opened the door to admit him. “Thor!” Frigga cried happily, with just a hint of relief, while all her attendants dropped what they were doing to stand and offer him their most gracious curtseys, eyes demurely lowered (though several of the younger ladies stole flirtatious glances through their eyelashes). “What is the occasion for this pleasant surprise?” Frigga asked cheerfully as she rose from her seat and made her way toward him.

“As I’m sure you know, Hogun has invited me to accompany him to visit his family in Vanaheim. Before I depart, I hoped you might advise me on the things I should see and do while in that Realm, since you know both it and me as well as anyone.”

“Of course, I’d be delighted to! Let us walk in the garden while we speak: it will be quiet there, and it is a perfect day for it. Fulla, will you fetch me my scarf?” she added, turning to one of the young women who had been assisting with her weaving.

By thus excusing herself, Frigga effectively dismissed her entourage: they all gathered up their work and departed in a flurry of skirts. Only a few were still lingering, casting a last furtive glance at Thor, by the time Fulla returned from another room with a length of gauzy fabric. “Thank you, dear,” Frigga said warmly. “At my age, sun and wind do nothing good for the complexion,” she explained to Thor as she wrapped it loosely over her head. Then she took her son’s arm and headed for the door.

They strolled through a few arcaded hallways before they emerged into the gardens, over which the declining sun cast a dreamy golden glow. As they walked, Frigga reminisced about the forest glens of her childhood, the views from lonely mountains when the sun pierced through their shrouds of mist, the temples carved ingeniously into mountainsides or hidden so thoroughly in the trees that the pilgrim could not see them until she was at their very gates.

“But it’s been a thousand years since I lived there—I’m sure Hogun and his family know the beauties of Vanaheim far better than I do. Why are you asking me? Other than filial piety, of course,” she added with a quirk of her mouth.

Thor cleared his throat. “It’s not exactly the beauties of Vanaheim I wanted to ask you about.”

Frigga’s eyebrows shot up past where the drape of the scarf shaded her forehead. “Oh?”

Thor cleared his throat again, completely unnecessarily. “You mentioned once that you’d had some experience with—ah—mind-altering substances during your youth in Vanaheim. I’m sure you understand why I thought Hogun was the wrong person to ask about that.”

Frigga snorted. “Indeed. And to be safe, I won’t tell your father that we had this conversation, either.”

“I appreciate that.”

Frigga shook her head and chuckled softly. “When my son runs out of dragons to slay, he turns his adventurousness to the inner world. So, what kind of experience were you looking to have?”

“It’s… not exactly for me. I thought… well, you know that Loki found that Midgardian drug— _cannabis,_ he said it was called—and it seems to have helped a bit with… whatever was making him so gloomy, and leading him to isolate himself so much.”

“But…” Frigga prompted him.

“But he still seems to be… on edge, most of the time. Moody, prone to long silences and sudden irritability. He insists that nothing is wrong with him—at least, nothing that a healer could solve. But since the cannabis did seem to be helping, at least to some degree, I wondered if you knew of some… less traditional remedy that might help with the lingering anxiety.”

“Well. I’m glad you came to me, because Skuld only knows what you might have found if you’d gone looking on your own…”

“And I thought your experience might be a good indication of what we should expect,” Thor put in quickly. “Since, of course, different people have different reactions to these things, but considering the close relationship…”

Frigga looked at him sharply. “That’s no guarantee of a similar experience.” Thor raised his eyebrows, startled by her brusqueness. “For all our healers know about the way medicines affect the body, their understanding of the effects of certain compounds on the brain, and thence in subjective experience, is still sadly partial,” she explained. “And of course they scarcely dare to research substances from other Realms whose use Asgardians tend to regard as a dangerous vice.”

“Of course.”

“That said—between my own experiences and those of the companions of my youth, I think I am well enough qualified to guide you through these waters. So—something to soothe anxiety? There’s always nightweed, though really all that does is dull the mind and induce heavy sleep. You definitely don’t want The Dreamer, because the visions it brings can be terrifying as often as they are comforting.” She chewed her lip, thinking, while they walked a few paces in silence. “You know, as odd as it sounds, I think your best bet is lovers’ leaf.”

Thor almost choked. _Lovers’_ leaf? Why would she suggest something with such a name? How much did she know, or suspect?

He must have allowed some small sound to escape, because Frigga chuckled at him.

“Don’t worry; it’s not an aphrodisiac, precisely. Though honestly it puzzles me why they gave it such a name, considering that it isn’t, and that quite enough aphrodisiacs _are_ known in Vanaheim… one of them is called Hela’s fire, which sounds singularly unappealing. I think ‘lovers’ leaf’ is a bit of a pun on ‘lovers’ leap’—you know, the common name for a promontory over water where despairing lovers are said to leap to their deaths. No, it doesn’t make people do that, either,” Frigga quickly assured him when she saw Thor’s expression of alarm. “Rather, it… it approximates the feeling of falling in love—or rushing headlong into love, more like. Giddiness, euphoria, the sense that all is right with the world. It tends to come with loquaciousness and relaxed inhibitions, and often an intense craving for touch. So don’t be alarmed if you find Loki becoming unusually… cuddly.” She paused for a moment, then snorted softly to herself. “Though frankly, any degree of cuddly would be ‘unusually cuddly’ for your brother.”

“I see what you mean,” Thor agreed dryly, since he could hardly admit to their mother just how cuddly Loki could be. “So, where can I find this lovers’ leaf?”

“Oh, anywhere, really,” Frigga said airily. “Some tea sellers have it, and those who don’t won’t look at you askance for asking—though perhaps Hogun will. That boy was warped by spending his adolescence in Asgard—not that you were, dear, you seem to have turned out fine.” She patted his cheek with a playful twinkle in her eye. “Or you can find it at any of the Temples to Love that Freyja and Freyr have built around their Realm,” she said, returning to the previous topic of conversation so abruptly that Thor was disoriented for a moment. (That was a somewhat irritating habit she shared with Loki: their quicksilver thoughts darted about too quickly for the ordinary run of minds to follow.) “All the kinds of love,” she assured him quickly, “including friendship and familial love.”

Thor sincerely hoped that his face was not turning red. Or that if it was, Frigga would chalk it up to the sun and wind from which she had veiled herself.

“I am in your debt, my Queen and mother,” Thor said solemnly, taking her hand and bending his lips over it, in the hope that he could hide his embarrassment behind extravagant gallantry.

“Oh, nonsense,” Frigga said, delicately pulling her hand away. “I’m glad to see my sons showing a bit of adventurousness in the life of the mind… within reason, of course,” she added, though Thor was unsure whether it was for his benefit or hers.

“And,” she added, with a slight hesitation before she pressed on, “I’m even gladder to see one of my sons showing such concern for the well-being of the other.” She paused again, pressing her lips together while she considered her next words. “You two are old enough now that I sometimes feel you are… out of my reach. Parents never stop wanting to protect and care for their children, but there comes a point when the children begin to chafe under their parents’ overprotective care. And that is when the children, as siblings and as friends, must learn to take care of each other. Perhaps even in preparation for the day when they will no longer have their parents to care for them.”

Thor reached for his mother’s hand again, this time to press it between his in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. Frigga looked down at their clasped hands and a wry smile broke through her melancholy demeanor.

“Listen to me, going on as if I’m on death’s doorstep when I’m scarcely more than three thousand years old. I suppose all I meant to say was: I’m glad you’re taking care of your brother—or trying to, anyway. Loki has been chafing under my care for centuries now, though he has never ceased to worry me with those long silences, those periods of isolation… I can only hope he will respond better to your efforts than to mine.”

“Maybe he just hasn’t found the right drug yet,” Thor said with a crooked smile.

The smile Frigga returned to him was not entirely cheerful. “Well, then, you’ll just have to keep looking for that panacea, won’t you?”

“I’m not looking for a panacea, just… a temporary respite,” Thor protested, even as he wondered whether that was true.

“Well, lovers’ leaf is that,” Frigga agreed. “All the pleasures of being in love with little of the danger.”

 _Except for the inescapable danger of being in love with one’s own brother,_ Thor thought darkly as Frigga resumed her reminiscences and they turned their steps back toward the palace.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Thor returned from Vanaheim laden with gifts. At a semi-formal audience Hogun presented the royal family with gifts from his kin, while Thor presented the gifts from Freyja and Freyr, the brother and sister who ruled Vanaheim, and conveyed their affectionate remembrances to Frigga, their childhood friend. There were books of Vanir spellcraft and herblore, enchanted music boxes that played entire symphonies by the greatest composers of Vanaheim, finely crafted swords and daggers with the slightly curved blade favored in that Realm. For Frigga the Vanir rulers had sent a spirited, slender-limbed filly with a golden coat that gleamed as bright as metal.

Later in the afternoon Thor and Hogun gathered their friends together—Sif, Fandral, and Volstagg, as well as Loki—to present them with their gifts: liquors scented with roses and orange blossoms, a delicate wine made from plums, boxes of sweetmeats made from the sweetened paste of nuts and beans native to Vanaheim. For Volstagg and his wife Hogun had brought a book of recipes from the region whence his family hailed (and his mother had appended a list of Asgardian ingredients that could be substituted for the ones that were hard to find off-Realm).

At supper with his family Thor presented his own gifts to them: for Frigga, a necklace and earrings set with translucent stones that uncannily mirrored the color of her eyes; for Odin, cloth-of-gold robes embroidered with ravens whose wings shone as iridescent as Huginn and Muninn’s feathers; for Loki, a set of inks in a breathtaking array of colors whose formulation was a proprietary secret of a particular Vanir guild.

At last Thor and Loki retreated together to Thor’s chambers. “I have one more gift for you,” Thor told Loki as the latter put his arms around Thor’s neck and leaned in to kiss him.

“Let me guess… is the gift attached to your body?” Loki murmured against his lips.

After they had kissed, long and hungry after a month’s separation, Thor answered, “Actually, no.”

Loki drew back and raised his eyebrows with mild curiosity.

“As my thanks for sharing with me the cannabis you brought from Midgard, I thought it was only appropriate to share something similar with you.” Thor extricated himself from his brother’s embrace to go rummaging among his saddlebags for a specific pocket in one of them.

“Oh, Norns. Should I be worried?”

Thor found the pocket he was looking for and pulled out a small leather pouch full of the dried leaves. “I shouldn’t think so, since Mother recommended it to me.”

Thor had been told that the leaves could be either smoked or brewed into a tea. He hadn’t much enjoyed the way smoking the cannabis had seared his throat and lungs, so he had decided to go with the tea option.

“What is it?” Loki asked.

“It’s called lovers’ leaf,” Thor answered as he lifted the lid from the silver teapot he kept in his room. He peered into the bottom and found it dusty (unsurprising, since he seldom used it) and headed toward the bathroom with the teapot in one hand and a kettle in the other.

Loki was aghast. “ _Mother_ recommended—isn’t that a—” He spluttered to a halt.

“No, it’s not an aphrodisiac,” Thor said calmly while he rinsed out the teapot. “Though that is a common misconception.”

“Then why in Yggdrasil is it called that?” Loki demanded from the other room.

“Mother told me that it mimics the feeling of falling in love,” Thor replied, raising his voice a bit to be heard over the sound of water splashing into the kettle. “Giddiness, euphoria…” He went to the hearth and hung the kettle over the fire blazing there. “The feeling that all is right with the world.”

When he turned to face his brother, Loki’s expression was strangely hard, the corners of his mouth twisted downward. “Is that what falling in love is like?” he asked, his voice flat.

Thor frowned, puzzled by his brother’s reaction. “Usually—at least, with youthful infatuations…” He trailed off as the look in Loki’s eyes grew colder.

“I’ve only fallen in love once,” Loki said, the words quiet but sharp-edged. “It felt like… like falling off a cliff into an endless abyss. Like having a millstone in the pit of my stomach, weighing me down with every step. Like a nausea that will never pass, because you can’t vomit up your heart.”

“Loki, I…” Thor went to him with his arms open and Loki flinched away slightly before acceding to the embrace, though he was slow to wrap his arms around Thor’s waist in return. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner,” Thor said softly into Loki’s hair. “About you, and about me. I can scarcely imagine how lonely it was…”

“Hmph,” Loki agreed.

“Never mind about falling in love. How did it feel when you learned that I felt it, too?” He pulled away gently to look at Loki’s face; and as he so often did, Loki dropped his eyes, as if Thor’s gaze was too intense to meet directly.

“Like finding out that the abyss did have an end after all, by landing in warm water. But not knowing how to swim.” Loki raised his eyes to give Thor a sardonic smile.

“But that’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?” Thor said warmly.

“To teach me?” Loki asked. A hint of the sharp edge was back in his words.

“To bear you up while you learn,” Thor corrected.

“I never knew you to be such a poet,” Loki said dryly. Then, “Your kettle is boiling.”

He was right; it was just starting to whistle softly. Thor took it from its hook over the fire and set it on the table beside the teapot. He took two liberal pinches of the dried leaves from their pouch and dropped them into the teapot, then poured the hot water from the kettle over the leaves. He had been instructed to let them steep for about two minutes, so he cast an eye to the chronometer on the wall and made note of the time, then sat down on the sofa that faced the hearth across the low table. He twisted around to look at Loki, who was still standing, and patted the seat beside him.

Out of perversity, apparently, Loki sat in one of the matching armchairs that faced each other across the table on either side of the sofa. Thor gave him a look and a slight eyeroll that said _‘Suit yourself.’_

“How was your trip to Vanaheim?” Loki asked lightly, clearly just to fill the time—and change the subject.

“Very pleasant,” Thor answered. “The Realm is as lovely as ever, its food as flavorful, its people as welcoming. Lady Freyja and Lord Freyr were, as ever, unfailingly hospitable and gracious, no doubt remembering their long friendship with our mother.” After a slight hesitation, he gave voice to a thought that had been preoccupying him of late. “You know, the rumor is that Freyja and Freyr are…”

“Yes, I know,” Loki cut in. “What of it?”

“It seems that the people of Vanaheim, in general, know but aren’t bothered by it.”

“Don’t, Thor,” Loki warned, his voice harsh enough that Thor found himself drawing back as if from a blow. Loki softened. “Don’t torment yourself with false hopes. Vanaheim has always been more… liberal than Asgard. They permit complex marriages, temporary marriages, marriages between partners of the same sex…”

“Could we not have those things in Asgard one day?”

“One day, perhaps. Millennia from now. After we’re dead.” Loki sighed and rubbed his eyes with his palms. “I have to remind myself sometimes that your unfailing optimism is part of what I love about you…”

Thor laughed softly, a little sad, while he poured the tea into two earthenware mugs… perhaps filling one just a _little_ higher than the other and pushing it toward Loki. “I can’t say I love you for your pessimism, but it’s probably saved my ass a few times.”

“ _Realism_ is what saved your ass, more than a few times.” Loki picked up the mug, sniffed at the steam wafting from it, and curled his lip. He took a small, dubious sip and coughed. “Like a musty cellar painted over with tar. And just a hint of”—he brought the mug to his nose again—“juniper?”

“It’s not meant to be fine wine, Loki,” Thor pointed out. He took a sip from his mug. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was tolerable.

“Sorry. Habit.”

“I can get you some honey if you’d like.”

“No, I don’t think that would help. If the flavors don’t harmonize, it’s like dousing a filthy body with perfume rather than bathing.”

“That’s an… interesting comparison.”

“Too much time spent in Midgard, I suppose.”

They continued sipping their tea, chatting idly about what Thor had done and seen in Vanaheim. When Thor noticed the level in their mugs getting low, he refilled them with the rest of the contents of the pot.

A few minutes after they had both emptied their mugs, Loki blinked as if startled. “Did you notice that?” he asked. “The light?” His words stumbled a bit, as if his tongue had grown heavy.

And Thor did notice it. “It’s… warmer. But soft. And things are… fuzzy around the edges.”

The edges of Loki’s mouth were drifting upward into a smile without his seeming to notice or intend it. “It makes everything look prettier.” He giggled: a sure sign of intoxication. “Even you.”

Thor didn’t think it was possible for Loki to look prettier than he normally did, but even with the drug starting to take effect, he knew it would sound ridiculous to say that; and anyway, he was having trouble figuring out how to fit the words together. “You look soft,” he said instead. He did; his face was glowing with a warm golden light, like a harvest moon against the night sky of his hair.

Loki snorted. “I’m not, as you know too well. I’m all sharp elbows and knees.” He tapped a palm against first an elbow and then a knee to punctuate his statement. He brought his hand to rest again on the velvet cushion of the armchair, then a look of fascination came over his face and he started stroking the cushion. “ _This_ is soft. I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything softer.”

Thor reached over to try the chair cushion, and it did feel astonishingly soft. An idea occurred to him. He stroked the cushion of the sofa where he was sitting and said, “This is even softer.”

Loki narrowed his eyes. “I may be drug-addled, but that still wasn’t subtle.”

Thor shrugged. “It was worth a try.”

“Nonetheless, I am coming over there because I want to,” Loki declared.

“You really are part cat, aren’t you?” Thor remarked in wonder and exasperation.

“If only!” Loki scoffed. He surged to his feet, then stood swaying for a moment, trying to find his balance. He took a couple of steps toward the couch, but misgauged and bumped his shin against the edge of the table. “Ouch,” he said, sounding more surprised than in pain. A couple more lurching steps, then he didn’t so much sit down as collapse onto the couch with a sudden buckling of knees.

“I don’t feel like I’m in complete control of my body,” he said, turning to look at Thor. His tone was matter-of-fact, but there was some tension underneath it.

“I suppose that’s only to be expected,” Thor said, trying to sound soothing.

“I’m not sure I like it,” Loki said. The deliberate calm he laid over his words was sounding increasingly fragile.

“I’ll make sure you don’t hurt yourself,” Thor assured him.

“The drug-addled leading the drug-addled,” Loki muttered. He put his face in his hands. “I don’t feel like I’m in complete control of my mind, either,” he mumbled from between his palms.

“I thought that was sort of the point,” Thor remarked with a small smile.

“I’m not sure I like that either.”

“Hey, I’m here,” Thor said. He put one arm around his brother, gently rubbing his back, and with the other hand pulled Loki’s hands away from his face. “I’m here. I won’t let you do anything stupid.” Loki gave him a skeptical look that was missing some of its usual nuances of scorn, but still got the point across well enough. “Anything _too_ stupid,” Thor amended.

“But you can’t stop me from making an ass of myself in front of you.” Loki’s eyes widened in sudden horror. “By saying shit like _that_.” He tried to cover his face with his hands again, but Thor took hold of one of them to stop him.

“Don’t worry about that. I’m your brother. We’ve both made asses of ourselves in front of each other—did that make sense?—anyway, we’ve seen each other being asses—millions of times.”

“And seen each other’s asses,” Loki added, predictably, with a giggle.

Thor snorted. “That, too. Look, I’ve seen you at your worst and I still like you.” _More than ‘like,’_ his mind pointed out. “I can’t imagine you’re going to do anything worse than I’ve ever seen.”

“I can imagine a lot,” Loki said dubiously.

Thor sighed. “You’ll just have to trust me. Let go, let yourself enjoy this. You won’t if you’re trying to hold onto yourself too tightly… if that made any sense.” Thor kept losing track of the meaning of his sentences once he got too far out from his starting point. “Just let go.”

“A leap of faith, eh?”

“A… what?”

Loki waved a hand. “Can’t explain right now. Words not properly hooked up to my brain. Maybe later.” He put his hand down on the couch cushion and, after a moment’s pause, remarked, “You’re right. It is softer.”

His hand kept exploring, first the leather of his own trousers, then Thor’s, then the back of Thor’s hand, its fingers still twined with Loki’s other hand. “Everything feels so… different. Interesting. So much _more_.”

It was true; Loki’s light touch on his thigh and his hand was raising the fine hairs all over his body. Thor resumed rubbing Loki’s back with his left hand and found himself profoundly aware of the texture of the leather of his coat, where it was smooth, where softened with use, where stiff and coarse for protection.

“That feels good,” Loki remarked. He pulled his shoulders back and wriggled a little. “I wish there weren’t so much in the way. All these layers… they feel so stiff and itchy and”—he clenched his fists and pulled his arms in toward his body to illustrate the point while reaching for the word—“ _constraining_ , all of a sudden.”

“Why don’t you take them off, then?” That hadn’t exactly been what Thor had had in mind when seeking something to help with Loki’s anxiety, but he wasn’t complaining.

“Not on your couch!” Loki said, sounding scandalized. _Fastidious as ever,_ Thor marveled, _even while ‘drug-addled.’_ Then Loki shot him a suspicious look. “If you’re trying to get me in your bed in _that way_ … that’s not what I want right now.”

Upon reflection, Thor wasn’t sure that was what he wanted, either. He wanted to be close to Loki, wanted to touch him, but perhaps only that. “What do you want?” he prompted gently.

“I’d be happy to get in your bed, in the literal sense. With you, if you’d like. But if I’m taking off my clothes, you should too. I don’t want to be the only one naked.”

“Of course,” said Thor. He leaned in and gave his brother a brief kiss.

Loki wrinkled his nose. “Your mouth tastes of that dreadful tea.” He licked his lips and grimaced. “So does mine.” Then Loki leaned across the space between them, at an unexpected angle, and licked Thor’s shoulder, bared by his sleeveless tunic. Thor shuddered at the sudden wet warmth, the silky texture of Loki’s tongue punctuated by a slight rasp to which he found himself more sensitive than he ever had been. _A cat, indeed._ “That’s better,” Loki remarked. “That just tastes like you. Clean, and salty.”

Thor stood up, pulling Loki with him, and shed his clothing in short order. Loki took slightly longer, since he had more layers, as ever. Soon, though, they were both unencumbered, and Thor took Loki’s hand to lead him into the bedroom. He pulled back the covers and slid between silken sheets; it seemed he had never really felt before the way they kissed his skin, cool and not quite smooth, or listened to the way the folds of the fabric sighed against each other.

Loki seemed to be experiencing a similar revelation, because he was running his hands over the sheets with a look of intense concentration that he usually reserved for spells that were giving him trouble. Thor reached over to trace the creased curve of one eyebrow and Loki jerked back, startled.

“Sorry,” said Thor. “It just reminded me of a bird’s wing.” He sketched the twice-curved shape with one finger just below Loki’s collarbone to illustrate the point.

Loki shivered at the light touch, but then another one of those involuntary smiles pulled at his mouth. “Keep doing that,” he said.

“What? Drawing on you?” Thor sketched out another wing on the other side of Loki’s chest, then started drawing a head and a beak on his sternum.

“Just… touching me,” Loki said, still smiling. Thor felt his mouth curving into a smile, too, as Loki ran his fingers over the contours of Thor’s arm, light at first, almost tickling, then firmer, finally wrapping a hand around Thor’s forearm and squeezing gently to feel the shape and firmness as well as the surface texture. The expression on Loki’s face was one almost of wonder, and it made Thor want to touch his face again, his lips, the muscles in his cheeks that were tensed with the effort of holding his mouth in that broad smile, and was that slight trembling because they had grown so unused to such effort, or was it something else?

Loki shifted closer to Thor so that their chests were touching and their legs tangled and reached around him to run a hand slowly over his back, pausing over the jut of a shoulder blade, the knobs of his spine. Thor reached a hand around Loki’s body as well, but instead of studying the topography of his back, he found himself wanting to pull Loki even closer, to do away with all the space between them, to mold them into one being.

Loki let out a startled “Oof!” when Thor hugged him tightly to his own body, but he did not protest. The exploring hand on Thor’s back splayed, Loki’s long fingers reaching to cover as much area as he could, then exerted some pressure in return. He tucked his head under Thor’s chin and inhaled deeply, then laughed. “You smell like you, only more so,” he remarked.

Thor tilted his face slightly to smell the top of Loki’s head. “Right now I’m mostly smelling the shit you put in your hair.”

“I think it smells good,” Loki protested. “I wouldn’t put it in my hair if it smelled like shit.”

“It smells fine, but it isn’t you.”

“Hmph,” was Loki’s only reply.

Loki shifted slightly in his grasp, settled his face more firmly against Thor’s chest—a movement that Thor might have been tempted to describe as _snuggling._ Well, their mother had warned him.

He was vividly aware of the geometry of Loki’s body, in a way he almost never was unless he was uncomfortable, glued to his brother’s skin by an itchy layer of sweat or being poked by one of his bony angles (not only his elbows and knees, but almost all of his joints, as well as his chin, seemed preternaturally sharp). Now he could feel every curve of bone or muscle, not as obtrusive, but as graceful and necessary and perfect. He could feel, too, the drape of Loki’s flaccid cock against his thigh; soft, the way Loki was soft now, languid, peaceful, at rest. Thor himself was slightly hard, and he knew Loki could feel that, too, but neither of them mentioned it. It didn’t matter. He wanted nothing from Loki that he didn’t already have.

“How are you feeling?” Thor asked after they had lain there for he knew not how long.

Loki stirred slowly as if from a trance. “Good. Warm.” He paused. “Happy,” he said eventually. “You?”

“The same,” Thor replied. “I’m happy.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wellp, the fic that was supposed to be 2000-3000 words ended up being over 5000. Is anyone surprised? I'm not. Sorry if the ending is a bit abrupt... I needed to quit while I was ahead.


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